


All These Wretched Gifts

by randomlyimagine



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aretuza (The Witcher), Canon Character of Color, Character Study, Fringilla's first night in Nilfgaard, Gen, Mentions of Canon Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29673972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomlyimagine/pseuds/randomlyimagine
Summary: On her first night in Nilfgaard, Fringilla knows this: It's a mess of a kingdom, and one she never wanted to be given.But maybe she can make it into something better.
Kudos: 8





	All These Wretched Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> This was SUPPOSED to be for bamf-jaskier's [Femslash February](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/post/641932214927523840/i-noticed-that-there-is-a-startling-lack-of-prompt), but then I got so caught up in my Fringilla character study that I forgot to add the femslash. Anyway this was intended for Day 23, Crown

The crown of Nilfgaard had passed through a dozen hands in half as many years by the time Fringilla was sent to Nilfgaard.

This was the gift that Aretuza, that Tissaia, that Yennefer had given her: A pathetic, backwater kingdom filled with petty, incompetent nobles. For all her talents with magic, with diplomacy—this was her reward. Never mind that she had been the first one in their class to cast a spell—to cast many spells. Never mind that she’d caught the lightning on her first try when Yennefer and so many others had failed.

Even when Yennefer had cheated Fringilla out of Aedirn, she’d only been restoring the Council’s original decision. _Tissaia’s_ original decision, for all the students at Aretuza had long since figured out that Yennefer was Tissaia’s favorite.

Not that Fringilla begrudged Yennefer that position, since it apparently came with the largest heaping of abuse. More proof that the Brotherhood of Sorcerers was fundamentally broken, and so were all the institutions they’d touched—Aretuza and Ban Ard and every kingdom of the North.

Not that she’d realized that at first; she’d known the Brotherhood wasn’t what it claimed to be by a year into her schooling— _by that first day when Tissaia made her wither her own hand, by the way that Tissaia forbid anyone to heal it until Fringilla had mastered the spell herself_ —but appreciating the full scope of their corruption had taken longer.

Going to Nilfgaard had helped with that realization. After all, it wasn’t as if she were the first Court Sorcerer of Nilfgaard.

But the three men sent before her had been weak, petty, power-driven—too impulsive and too fixated on their own rewards to steer the realm toward stability, too busy backstabbing and switching sides to whichever faction looked ascendant in almost any given moment.

Fringilla had arrived at the court of Nilfgaard, magicked her scarce belongings into their places—though more than any other Aretuza graduate had, given her upbringing—and taken a bath. Sat in the dark bronze tub in the washroom of her chambers, and let her careful composure drop. Let herself actually feel the hurt within.

Her dreams, her ambitions, the promises of her future. Out of control her control once again—taken away from her once again, _just_ when she’d thought she’d gotten lucky, that some last-minute change would award her a position of prestige, one that matched her skill.

But no. Yennefer had done what Fringilla would have wanted to do in her situation—what she _hoped_ she would’ve mustered the nerve to do—and taken Aedirn back. Restored the Brotherhood’s original plans for the flawless, shining graduates.

Fringilla’s hand tightened on the rim of the tub, rich brown against golden bronze. Watched as the blood was forced out of her fingers by the pressure of her grip.

And then she let go, and watched as her tears blended in with the water.

Fringilla’s mother had always told her, growing up, that few things were better for the soul than a warm bath and a good, long cry—but that she could never, ever let anyone see. Fringilla’s mother wasn’t a mage, was a Toussainti noble, but that advice had gotten Fringilla through the years and years of pain and abuse and grief that had been Aretuza’s gift. Had gotten her through the long nights, alone in the rough-hewn stone of her room, taking shelter in the lonely dark and letting it hide her tears.

She hadn’t seen her mother since she was brought to Aretuza. But Nilfgaard’s territory included Toussaint—one of the few areas not ravaged by the constant upheaval of the country.

Nilfgaard, Fringilla realized, might be a mess. Might never have been her choice.

But that was at least one choice that it could give her back.

And with a monarchy and nobility so weak, maybe it could give her others.

She let the warm water soak away her grief and her anger and her aches. Let it wash away her past—let it begin to erode the mild-mannered shell she’d always been too hurt, too unsure to leave. She let the waters grant her—however temporary—some peace.

Then she pulled herself up and out of the bath, dressed herself in her most solemn dress, and called the chamberlain to her door.

And then she sat down with every piece of court records she could requisition—just a few at first, loose stacks of parchment pulled suddenly from the chamberlain’s office—and then more and more as the night turned into day turned into night once again.

It took her ten minutes to conclude that Nilfgaard was a mess.

It took her an hour to conclude that that mess had been devoured by kikimoras, shat out, and then set on fire.

The crown of Nilfgaard had changed hands yet again not a month before her arrival.

 _Well_ , Fringilla exhaled, looking at the mess of papers in front of her, half-missing records and haphazard finances and genealogies each half wiped out.

She had her work cut out for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to the Witcher Femslash server for making me passionate about Fringilla. If you also love Fringilla and/or the other witcher ladies, come join us while we yell about how great all of the witcher ladies are (and how they should kiss). Very open to trans/nonbinary identities (in headcanons and in our members). https://discord.gg/jrn8j3WVtt


End file.
